


All of You

by dansunedisco



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this <a href="http://spn-otpkink.livejournal.com/4527.html?thread=366767#t366767">prompt</a> over at the spn_otpkink comm: <i>J2, misunderstandings. That's it, that's really all I want. Any situation, with a misunderstanding, resolution and a happy ending.</i></p><p>There's a text message, a misunderstanding, a fight, and a confession.</p><p>Features: oblivious!Jensen, some fluff, some angst, and lots of trope-y clichés.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are mine! Feel free to point 'em out.

The Blackberry lit up, buzzing quietly on the breakfast table. Jensen reached out for the cellphone automatically, concentration firmly fixed on the edition of _GQ_ he’d received yesterday (did lapel width _have_ to match tie width? It was a damned good question and Jensen wanted answers). He swiped his thumb over the screen and glanced down.

 _can’t wait to see u! had so much fun last year!! rawr - m_

Jensen’s brain abruptly aborted, thumb twitching, and then restarted, with several panicked thoughts flashing in his mind like a flare gun fired in rapid succession:

1)   This was absolutely _not_ his phone.

2)   The number was unknown, but the area code (San Antonio) was _not_.

But his loudest, most panicked thought was:

3)   Who was M?

One: Jared had a horrible habit of tearing through their apartment like the Tasmanian devil every morning. He woke up at the crack of dawn every day to herd his two dogs out the front door for a run. By the time he made his way back, his shower-dress-feed routine had to be trimmed down to the minute in order for him to tear out the driveway to make it to work on time.

Meaning, there would be days when Jensen would reach for his phone and realize that Jared, in his mad dash, had taken his instead. It was a mistake easily made, especially when you were halfway out the door with a bagel stuffed between your teeth. It didn’t hurt anyone, in any case. It wasn’t like Jensen or Jared didn’t have personal cells, or office landlines.

Two: Jared was from San Antonio and has had the same number since he was fifteen years old. And wasn’t the fact Jensen knew this crap (nay, had it _filed away_ neatly in a Jared-shaped memory bank along with every other little creeper tidbit he’d gleaned over the months they’d know one another) a little pathetic?

And, finally, three: Who the _fuck_ was M?

Jensen wished he could say he was angry, filled with jealous rage, or gnashing his teeth. But he didn’t have a stable leg to stand on. He and Jared weren’t—and hadn’t ever been—together.

In fact, their relationship had been a veritable whirlwind bromance.

They had both met at a convention center in Atlanta. Jared, Assistant Coach of a girls’ volleyball club who were competing at Nationals. Jensen, a bored attendee of a physical therapy conference. They’d bumped into one another on the concourse, and then again at their hotel.

“Dude! This is the second time I’ve knocked into you… pretty sure it’s the universe’s way of telling me I gotta get to know ya!” Jared had said.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. Hi,” Jensen had replied.

They’d grabbed a few beers, with Jared coaxing conversation out of Jensen like a master magician. Over the course of that first night, they’d discovered they lived down the road from one another, had grown up in Texas a few hours away, had both attended UT—though four years apart—and got along better than strangers had any right to get along. Jared was funny, and outgoing, and had such a skillful way of drawing Jensen out of his hermit-crab shell that it had Jensen downright _irritated_ he hadn’t run into Jared years ago.

So they exchanged numbers. Jensen wrote his number down on a napkin, fully expecting to be forgotten. And then Jared had surprised him by tapping the number immediately into his phone, tucking the napkin into his jacket just in case, and then calling the day after they’d both landed back in Dallas. 

They ended up as roommates three months after that, when Jared had bemoaned his roommate, Chad, and his entire sleazy existence for the thousandth time, and Jensen had blurted out, “My guest room’s just collecting dust, dude” without fully realizing that he was rapidly falling head over heels in love, and how complicated and gut-wrenching living with said object of affection would be.

He went back to his memory bank, trying to pry it open for any hint of a San Antonio hook-up Jared might have mentioned before, but Jensen’s brain had nothing but fuzzy stories Jared had divulged over cheap tequila and even cheaper beer.

Now that he was _really_ thinking about it, Jensen realized he’d never seen Jared so much as look at another man or woman. Well, in a sexual way. Okay, in a _seriously_ sexual way. Most of their free time was eaten up spending it together; so much so that it must have slipped Jensen’s notice that Jared must have been getting laid every now and again, when his back was turned.

It was strange, the lengths he found himself going to plausibly deny that Jared was anything but as pure as freshly fallen snow.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Jensen set the phone back on the table, his mood doing a decent impression of water going down the toilet.

 

\---

 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Jensen looked up from his Kindle, wilting a little under Jared’s intense stare. “What do you mean?” he deflected, wanting to play dumb for as long as possible. He shifted his Kindle a little higher, like the coward he was.

“You’ve barely said a word to me all day,” said Jared, bluntly, like he always did. He was balancing a bottle of beer between his index finger and his knee, and a baseball game neither of them had been watching played on the television. “Are you still mad that I took your phone to work today?”

Jensen frowned. It was the first excuse he’d come up with when Jared had brought up his peevish mood earlier. Something told him Jared was no longer buying it, and there was only so much bullshit he could weave before he felt bad about lying to his best friend. He set his Kindle to the side and shuffled forward, bent over until his elbows were set on his thighs. It was so clichéd, but he knew he had to fess up—about everything—or else he’d ruin their friendship with his slowly cracking attitude.

But it was definitely easier said than done. “Um. Man, I dunno how to say this.”

The irritated lines around Jared’s mouth relaxed, but now his eyebrows had practically shot up to his hairline, eyes wide and worried. It twisted Jensen’s stomach up, made it feel like he had a golf ball lodged in his throat.

“I’m not mad about the phone thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t, before. Um. I saw a text message. One I probably shouldn’t have seen, y’know? And. Well, fuck, Jared. Living with you is hard.“

“Living with me is _hard_?”

It was clear to Jensen that the conversation needed to be salvaged, and fast, because Jared’s concerned look had morphed into the ultimate bitch face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You just said it. You said, and I quote, ‘living with you is hard’.”

“What I said and what I meant are two completely different things.”

“Then just say what the hell you mean!”

“It’s hard to explain!”

“Just like it’s hard to live with me?”

“ _Yes!_ Fuck. No!”

“And what do you mean you saw a text message?”

“Now _that_ I meant literally.”

“God! Really? I am drowning in a sea of your sarcasm.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!”

“You’re always sarcastic!”

“Not right now I’m not. Listen… I’m telling you I saw a text message, on your phone, and it’s kind of a problem for me.”

It was another clear verbal misstep, as Jared ground out, “A problem? A problem for _you_? Wow. A text message. What a freakin’ hardship. It’s not like I asked you to check it! Why were you going through my phone anyway?”

“I was—I was reading my magazine, and I thought it was my phone!”

“Likely fucking excuse!“

“It’s not a god damn excuse!”

“FUCK!”

Jared shouted the word so loudly the both of them froze in place.

They were both standing now, Jared on one end of the coffee table, Jensen on the other. They must have danced around while they were screaming at each other to get there, like they needed a barrier between them to keep from coming to physical blows. Jensen’s ears were pounding in time with his heartbeat, adrenaline from a fight he never meant to have pulsing thick in his veins.

The baseball commentators screamed in the background.

Jared pulled in a ragged breath. “If you want me gone, I’ll go.”

“No,” pleaded Jensen. And that’s what he was doing now. Begging. His voice sounded wrecked, but he hardly cared. There was one thing worse than screaming at Jared, and that was letting this whole situation spiral out of control in the first place. “I don’t want you gone. That’s—that’s the problem, Jared. I _don’t_ want you gone.”

Jared just breathed, fingers flexing around the neck of his beer bottle. “Explain. Lay it out for me. Right now.”

Jensen bit his lip, the hope that Jared would pick up what he meant crushed under the angry flash of Jared’s eyes. “Okay. Okay, I’ll explain.”

He sat down. “I wasn’t paying attention when I checked your phone, I swear. I just looked down and read the message, just—absentmindedly. The one from M? About wanting to hook-up again?”

Jared gaped, and then sat down, too. “Jensen—“

“No, no, let me finish,” he replied, holding his hand up. He needed to come clean, while the words were bulldozing their way straight out of his mouth. “I was acting like a douche today because I was _jealous_. I don’t have any right to be, and I know that. I guess I haven’t been completely honest with you, but I’m… I’ve been harboring a totally embarrassing, twelve year old girl-status crush on you. Since Atlanta.”

“Jensen—“

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start a fight, or think I wanted you to leave. You’re my best friend, and—“

“Dude, shut up!”

Jensen sank back into his chair, embarrassment like a blow to the gut when he lifted his eyes and saw that Jared was grinning at him like the Cheshire cat.

“M is my sister,” Jared explained slowly.

“Your _sister_ ,” he wheezed out.

“Remember when I lost my iPhone for a week? And I gave her my work number to use instead? Well, she’s a freakin’ brat and won’t quit using it. She was talking about Spring Break. I took her to Cancun last year, remember?”

Jensen croaked, a furious blush working its way up from his chest to his cheeks. “Lord, if you’re listening… strike me dead. Right now. Any ol’ smite will do.” 

Jared burst into laughter, and Jensen sank even further into the chair. He was a grown man, and had done a handful of embarrassing things in his day, but this? _This_ took the cake and ran with it all the way to Mexico. He needed to escape, but Jared latched onto his knee with his gigantic hand before Jensen could do so much as slither off the chair.

“I’m… wow,” chuckled Jared. “I’m not laughing at you, Jensen. I _swear_.”

“Then you can stop any day now,” he grumbled.

“No—just. Look, I know you. You’ve been angsting over this for months, haven’t you?” He squeezed Jensen’s knee. “You’ve been pining away, writing ‘Jensen Padalecki’ all over your trapper-keeper…”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not really, but… Jensen, I haven’t been completely honest either. I really, really wanted to hook-up with you in Atlanta.”

“You _what_?”

“You heard me. I didn’t accidentally bump into you at the conference hall. I ran from concourse A to C just to see you. And that wasn’t my hotel, either.”

“Jared,” he said, his brain short-circuiting spectacularly.

“I asked one of your co-workers where you guys were staying.” He sighed. “And when we got to talking… man, I really liked you. But the time for a one-night stand had already set sail by then, and I figured you just weren’t interested.”

The heat from Jared’s hand on his thigh was almost too much. Of all the reactions he’d secretly fantasized about, he had never dreamed that his most irrational, most unrealistic option could come true. And now that Jared had put it out there, that damn lump in his throat was back, and he couldn’t get the words out. The ones that said “me too”.

So he did the next best thing, and leaned in for a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—he’d landed a little _off_ in his haste—but the burst of adrenaline, and the heady spike of affection warmed him from head to toe. He pulled away, feeling almost dizzy. They still had a lot to talk about (were they dating; had they _been_ dating this whole time?). But, for once, Jensen didn’t feel like digging through the specifics. Not yet.

“Wow,” he breathed. 

“Yeah.” Jared pulled him back in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
